Monday Girl (35 page)

She supposed that he would doubt her sanity when he learned that she had gone on meeting Fergus in secret, and letting him make love to her, but she had to tell him everything now.

‘As I said already, that awful row happened on the day war was declared, and my mother ordered him out, but then she gave in and said he could stay till he found other digs. When I met him the next night, he told me he’d signed on for the army that day, and was leaving the following Monday.’

Their eyes met for a second, hers apologetic and ashamed, his sad and apprehensive, as if he wondered how much more he could take. She carried on with her confession, how Fergus had made his last night as a civilian a memorable one for her. ‘Jack and Tim had both told me not to trust Fergus, and even Granny warned me he was a bad lot, but I couldn’t help myself. As far as I knew, I’d never see him again, and I was broken-hearted.’

‘But you obviously did see him again?’

‘He came back after his training was finished. He’d written to Mum, pleading with her, and she felt sorry for him because he’d nowhere else to go. His parents had put him out years before, you see, though we didn’t know the truth about that until later. Well, I was very jealous because he’d written to her and not to me, but I couldn’t say anything to him in front of Mum.’

‘And
was
your mother still involved with him, too?’

‘No, she’d seen him for what he was, and knew he wasn’t to be trusted, but she trusted me, unfortunately. I went to meet him that last time, hoping he could explain away all my doubts, even though I knew, deep down, that they were well-founded. But when I saw him sitting on that bench, smiling as if nothing had happened, I didn’t want his excuses . . . I don’t know, something snapped inside me, Glynn. I’d seen through him at last, and I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me so many times.’ Renee shook her head, as if to dispel the memories of the terrible things they had said to each other.

Glynn moved his feet, and rubbed his numb leg to restore his circulation. ‘Did it all end there?’

‘Oh, yes. He must have realised he’d never be able to manipulate me again, and it was horrible. He shouted that no matter who I married, or made love with, he’d always remember that he’d been first, and so would I. His last words were, ‘‘I swear to you, Renee, that every time anyone makes love to you on a Monday, you’ll remember I was the first.’’ I never let a man ever get anywhere near making love to me again, Glynn, truly . . . not even you.’

She looked up sadly. ‘Fergus hasn’t crossed my mind for years, and I did want you to make love to me the night you tried, but I was afraid you’d lose your respect for me afterwards.’

There was a lengthy silence, during which the young bride was afraid to say anything more. She knew that her husband was struggling with his own emotions, but would he turn to her in a minute and enfold her in his arms and murmur words of forgiveness and understanding, or would he turn away from her in disgust at her obsession with a worthless philanderer who had made her a puppet following his every command? Worse still, would he show his anger by walking out on her on their wedding night?

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, for fear of what she might see on his face, and turned her attention to the room, seeing it properly for the first time. The dark wardrobe and dressing table, not part of the same suite but close enough; the cracked wash-hand basin; the faded carpet with a few indeterminate stains; the green curtains, striped with almost white vertical bands where the sun had bleached them when they were open. Everything was clean, but impersonal. What a barren place for such a poignant drama! She drew a deep breath, a shuddering, body-wracking breath, and let it out in slow, difficult stages. Glynn had been silent too long. He couldn’t forgive her, and she would have to accept that their marriage was over before it had begun.

The sound seemed to jolt him into consciousness. He turned his body a little towards her, still not touching her, and looked at her sorrowfully. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this before?’ It was almost a whisper, but it conveyed the full extent of his misery.

‘Glynn, I couldn’t! I was ashamed of what I’d done. I wanted to pretend it had never happened, and I thought you’d despise me for being so gullible and . . .’ Her voice faded away, and she looked at him, pleading with him to understand.

His eyes dropped, the black sweep of his lashes against his cheeks emphasising his pitiful pallor. ‘Renee,’ he said slowly, deliberately, ‘if he were to come back, after the war, would you . . . fall under his spell again and . . . ?’

She sat straight up then, outraged that he could think such a thing. ‘No, Glynn! I never want to see him again. Never! I stopped loving him . . . I think it really was when I saw him with that other girl, making love in the very same place as he’d been with me.’

‘But it didn’t stop you from going back again and again to him, and letting him . . . use you?’

She realised that this was what was most difficult for him to comprehend, and she could hardly understand it herself now. ‘Glynn, I can’t offer any excuses. I can’t explain, even to myself, why I was drawn to him like that in spite of what I knew about him. It was an obsession. I couldn’t get him out of my system. I didn’t want to believe he was unfaithful to me, even if I’d seen it with my own eyes. I always pushed that picture out of my mind, and pretended that it had just been a dream, a nightmare.’

He lifted his eyes again, sympathetic, sad eyes, not angry.

‘You’re sure your mother got him out of her system, too?’

‘Yes, I’m sure, but what’s that got to do with . . . ?’

‘I was wondering if this man could be the reason for her refusing to marry Fred Schaper.’

‘He told you he’d asked her? No, I’m sure Fergus had nothing to do with her not marrying Fred. She said she didn’t want to take the chance of being made a widow again.’

Glynn slipped back into his brooding silence, and Renee tensed herself to keep on persuading him that the hypnotic fascination which Fergus Cooper had held for her had been killed by Fergus himself in the end.

‘Renee.’ His look was searching. ‘Why did you let our wedding go ahead for a Monday, when you knew . . . ?

‘Glynn, I swear to you I didn’t remember anything about that.’ She felt desperate. ‘I loved you so much, even fixing the wedding day for a Monday didn’t remind me about him. He’d meant nothing to me for years, and I wouldn’t have thought about him at all if you hadn’t said that you’d always remember Mondays. That was what brought it all back to me.’

He put his hands up to his face. ‘Oh, Renee, I want to believe you, but . . .’

‘But you’ll never believe that it’s you I love and not Fergus,’ she finished for him. ‘I can understand that, Glynn, but please, please, listen to me. I love you more deeply and more truly than anything I ever felt for him.’ Her eyes shone with the truth of this, as she waited for him to reply.

‘Oh, God!’ he said, at last. ‘God, Renee, I love you with every part of me, and I can’t bear the thought of losing you.’

‘You won’t lose me, Glynn, darling, not if you want me – if you want to keep me. I can’t bear the thought of losing you either.’

He ran one hand wildly through his hair, then leaned over with his face close to hers. ‘I have to trust you, otherwise our marriage would be worth nothing.’ His tortured eyes burned into hers with a strength that almost frightened her.

‘You can trust me completely, utterly, totally – I can’t think of any more words to convince you, but it’s true.’ She held her lips up to his, praying that he wouldn’t turn away. There was no passion in their kiss, and no desire followed it. He cradled her in his arms until they fell asleep, both exhausted by the emotional ordeal they had just come through.

They rose late in the morning, almost too late for breakfast, and Renee could see the two young waitresses giggling in the corner of the dining room when they went in. She could imagine the jokes they must be making about the honeymoon couple having had a hectic night, and thought ruefully that they wouldn’t think it was so comical if they knew what had really happened the night before in the second-floor bedroom. Glynn had hardly spoken to her since they woke, because they’d been rushing to be in time for breakfast, but he had taken her in his arms and kissed her tenderly before they left the room.

At the table, they discussed where they would go that day, acting like a couple who had been married for years, while Renee wondered if they would ever recapture the warm, loving, free-and-easy relationship they’d had before, and should have even more so now that they were husband and wife.

They went to the Palace of Holyroodhouse first, where she showed him where Darnley’s conspirators had plunged their daggers into David Rizzio, thinking he was the Queen’s lover. She had been in Edinburgh once before, when her father was alive, and even after more than ten years, she could still remember all that she had learned on that visit. History, especially the life of Mary, Queen of Scots, had always fascinated her, and Glynn was an interested listener. They walked up the Royal Mile, and spent the afternoon immersing themselves in the intriguing history of the Castle.

‘This little room is where Mary gave birth to her son, who became James the Sixth of Scotland and First of England.’ Glynn smiled. ‘It’s very small, but I suppose it was only an old-time labour ward.’

Renee was pleased that he seemed to have regained his sense of humour, and they moved on. Before they left the Castle, she took him into St Margaret’s Chapel, built in

1076 by Margaret, Queen of Malcolm III, where a plan formed in the girl’s mind, but she decided to keep quiet about it at the moment.

She would really have preferred to implement it here, but there were two other people in the tiny building and it wouldn’t have been feasible. There was another place, though, she remembered, happily, which might be an even better setting for what she had in mind. She hugged her secret as they walked down the hill, only telling Glynn that they were on their way to visit St Giles’ Cathedral, which they had passed on their way up to the Castle. To whet his interest, she told him the story of little Jenny Geddes throwing a stool at John Knox, the great preacher, because she disagreed with his teaching.

‘Your Scottish history is every bit as turbulent as the history of Wales,’ he remarked. ‘Tell me, all the things you’ve spoken about today – do you remember them from being here with your father, or did you learn them at school?’

‘A bit of both, I suppose, and I probably only remember what I found most interesting at the time.’

They had arrived at the doors of St Giles and went through into the cool peace of the Cathedral. As they walked round, Renee said, quietly, ‘Sit down, Glynn, and we can ask God’s blessing on our marriage.’ This was what she’d thought of back in the small chapel at the Castle, but she was doubtful now if even this would afford them a fresh start.

Giving her a quick, apprehensive glance, Glynn sat down and reached for her hand.

For several minutes they remained there, with heads bowed and hands held tightly, allowing the serenity of the holy building to take possession of them.

Dear God, Renee prayed silently, let Glynn forgive me for what I did when I was too young to know any better. Make him understand that he’s my whole life now, and that nobody means anything to me except him. Amen.

As an afterthought, she added, I’ll always be a good wife to him, and if he has to be sent away to fight, I promise to be faithful to him. Amen again.

When they stood up, she felt that they were truly husband and wife now, in the eyes of God as well as in the eyes of the world. A calm peace had entered her soul, and she trusted that it had been the same for Glynn.

She was overjoyed when he turned to her in the street outside and said softly, ‘I’m very pleased you thought about that, my darling. A registry office wedding doesn’t exactly make you feel properly married, does it?’

They returned to the hotel in good time for dinner at seven, but while they washed and dressed, Glynn spoke only of what they had seen and done during the day, and made no move to kiss her or touch her in any way. Renee was bitterly disappointed. He still hadn’t recovered from the shock of the previous night. He was friendly, amusing, but treating her as a friend, not as a bride. How long would it take him to forget . . . or accept?

After their meal, they went for a walk along Princes Street Gardens, which looked magnificent in the rays of the setting sun. When they came to the Scott Monument, Glynn stopped walking, but he kept his eyes on the Castle towering above them to the left.

‘Renee, I’m sorry our honeymoon isn’t going the way we expected,’ he said simply.

‘I’m enjoying it,’ she protested. ‘I love Edinburgh.’

‘That’s not what I mean, and you know it.’ He glanced at her quickly, then turned towards the solid dark silhouette again. ‘I’ve tried hard to come to terms with what you told me last night, and I’ve reached a conclusion.’

‘Yes?’ She sounded alarmed. Was he going to tell her that their marriage had been a mistake? Was he going to suggest that they have it annulled?

‘Either we go on as we’ve been doing all day, ignoring the problem, which would be intolerable for both of us, or else . . .’

‘Yes?’ she said again. ‘Or else?’

‘Or else we’ll both have to learn to forget about Fergus Cooper and what he did to you. That’s the only way we can have a decent life together.’

‘I’ve forgotten already,’ she assured him, quickly.

Glynn bowed his head. ‘I haven’t, Renee. I can’t. I am trying, but I find it very difficult.’

She touched his arm. ‘I know. But Glynn, please keep on trying. Please, just for me?’

He turned and drew her towards him. ‘We
can
make a go of it, can’t we, Renee?’ His eyes were earnest, anxious.

‘I’m sure we can, darling.’ Her pulse was racing. It was going to be all right.

At last he kissed her, a long, tender kiss. ‘I’ll try, Renee, for my own sake as well as yours, but you’ll need to have patience with me. It might take some time.’